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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25656367">you don't know me (and if you do you should know better)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/harperuth/pseuds/harperuth'>harperuth</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>i met you in the summer [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bad Sex That Turns Good, Fisting, Identity Porn, M/M, Panic Attacks, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, References to past trauma, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Time Travel, Violet Wand</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:34:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,708</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25656367</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/harperuth/pseuds/harperuth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I haven’t seen you around before,” Ratchet said and followed that up with the most blatant once over that Whirl had ever been on the receiving end of. </p>
<p>Brainstorm wasn’t just messing around with time travel. This had to be some kind of dimension hopping experiment. He was in the fragging Twilight Zone.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ratchet/Whirl (Transformers)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>i met you in the summer [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1828810</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>108</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>you don't know me (and if you do you should know better)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>for the prompt 'identity porn and bad sex' with whirl/??. i kind of...freestyled?</p>
<p>title from 'hesher' by wallpaper.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Whirl was looking forward to this not being his fault for once.</p>
<p>He was for sure going to be dragged down to Magnus’s office as “Party To An Incident,” but maybe this time it would be the sub-form “Witness,” or <em> maybe </em>even “Wronged Party.” Primus, that might be enough to push Magnus to a new level of polite outrage. That’d be nice.</p>
<p>Nicer than this.</p>
<p>All he’d wanted was his new weapon upgrades from Brainstorm and sure maybe, <em> maybe</em>, he should knock instead of barging right into the middle of his labspace. Maybe, just perhaps, he should check in and tell Brainstorm he’s coming before he does said bursting. But, in fairness, he was pretty sure Magnus had issued an edict about experimenting with time travel on board. Particularly when they were in FTL. </p>
<p>Whirl tried not to focus too hard on the fact that this was all hypothetical, considering he was Primus knew when, Primus knew where, and mechs kept <em> touching </em> him. </p>
<p>Brainstorm had dropped him in the middle of an honest to Primus house party. The place was packed with mechs from wall to wall and some of them were slagging strong. He’d knocked and stabbed more wandering servos from his frame than he had since the last time he’d been brought to a Senate party.</p>
<p>“Oh, look at <em> you</em>,” A strangely familiar voice cooed next to him. Whirl didn’t look up from where he’d finally found the energon tap in the <em> washrack </em> of all places. When in Kaon and all.</p>
<p>“Frag off,” He twitched when a strangely familiar servo traced along his hip joint.</p>
<p>“You sure, sweetspark?” The voice purred and a shiver traveled up Whirl’s backstrut. The field brushing at the edges of his own was…</p>
<p>Whirl jerked back and stared. <em> Ratchet</em>. Whirl cycled his optic several times, zooming in and out as he struggled to connect the optical feed to his higher processing. Ratchet looked... <em> good</em>.</p>
<p>Not that Whirl wasn’t into the way Ratchet looked as he knew him. The War grizzled, grumpy medic look was a great one for him. There was a particular frequency Ratchet’s vocalizer achieved when Whirl had been riding him for a joor that was usually enough to push Whirl through a mind-blowing overload. </p>
<p>But here and...then, now, whatever, Ratchet was so <em> young </em>. His shoulders were wide and pulled back, putting a lovely abdominal grill that wasn’t on his older frame on display. He still wasn’t particularly tall, especially next to Whirl, but he was broad and stocky in a way that promised he’d be able to throw you around the berth in any way you so chose.</p>
<p>Ratchet, bright and <em> colorful</em>, there were stripes of biolights that had to be strategically placed all over his frame, what the <em> frag</em>, didn’t seem put off by his staring. If anything, it made him more forward, “Hi there.”</p>
<p>“Hi,” Whirl managed to croak, more on autopilot than anything.</p>
<p>“I haven’t seen you around before,” Ratchet said and followed that up with the most <em> blatant </em> once over that Whirl had ever been on the receiving end of. </p>
<p>Brainstorm wasn’t just messing around with time travel. This had to be some kind of dimension hopping experiment. He was in the fragging Twilight Zone.</p>
<p>“Uh,” Whirl managed. A brilliant response.</p>
<p>“I’d love to take you home with me,” Ratchet managed to insert himself into his space in such a way that their frames were pressed together an unthinkable amount while still being able to see each other’s faces. Well. Ratchet’s face. Whatever.</p>
<p>Whirl considered trying to get back out of the building, all the servos that wanted to grab at him. An escort would be nice. And, well— He knew how Ratchet fragged. This wouldn’t be something strange and unknown for all that the Ratchet before him was a mystery. He’d have a place to stay tonight and a nice easy overload.</p>
<p>“Sure,” Whirl cycled his optic. Ratchet’s smile was nearly blinding.</p>
<p>- - -</p>
<p>Ratchet’s mouth was hot against Whirl’s intake as they stumbled through a nondescript door in a nondescript dorm apartment building. Whirl had gotten so used to the scraped and illegally decorated hab hallways of the Lost Light that he’d forgotten how fragging <em> clean </em> Cybertron used to be. Ratchet’s glossa worked its way between two cables and he stopped thinking about cleanliness.</p>
<p>“Frag,” He mumbled, using what little processing power he had left to try and turn them. He knew the song and dance. Crowd Ratchet into berth, doing his best not to run his mouth. Grind their panels together until Ratchet was hot enough to pop, then sink down and ride like no tomorrow. He had this.</p>
<p>“No, no,” Ratchet murmured into his neck, licking up until he could kiss the very base of his optic housing. Whirl’s thoughts whited out, “Lemme lay you out. Wanna make you come apart.”</p>
<p>Whirl was shocked enough to not fight being pushed back onto a berth. Ratchet stood over him, looking flushed and pleased. Whirl stared at him, trying to understand.</p>
<p>“Frag, you’re gorgeous,” Ratchet grinned, coming close enough to ghost his digits from Whirl’s pedes to his first knee joint, playing lightly with the small turbines there. The touch was enough to blank Whirl’s processor the rest of the way and he nearly missed Ratchet’s next glyphs, “Anything you like that I can do for you?”</p>
<p>“Whatever,” Whirl croaked, already thrown off by his back against the berth, let alone the <em> touching</em>. </p>
<p>Ratchet’s digits gave his turbine one slow spin before he ducked down out of sight. Whirl craned his optic housing around to catch sight of his aft stuck out from under the berth before he resurfaced, dragging a large crate behind him. Ratchet rifled around another klik or so before withdrawing a delicate looking toy. </p>
<p>It almost looked like glass, but Whirl knew it had to be something more like transteel. The end was bulbous and spotted with textured nubs. The whole thing lit up when plugged into Ratchet’s wrist port.</p>
<p>“You’ve got some heavy plating,” Ratchet ran another servo up Whirl’s thigh, “Tell me if this isn’t enough.”</p>
<p>Whirl stared and vented carefully. What the <em> slag </em> was happening? He knew Ratchet. Intimately. An easy frag and a place to sleep. </p>
<p>He had no idea what that toy was.</p>
<p>“Sure,” He finally managed, after who knew how long. They’d learned on their last time travel jaunt that chronometers went to shit wherever you were sent back. Couldn’t read any external clocks either. He knew there was probably a reason for that, but he had a few more pressing matters at the moment.</p>
<p>Like the toy in Ratchet’s servo coming into contact with his plating, and a zap of charged electricity jumping from it to him.</p>
<p>Whirl startled, freezing up. He’d been electrocuted before. The Senate weren’t exactly creative when it came to attempts to “correct deviant behavior.” This was...something close, but different.</p>
<p>It was a little horrifying that someone would create something that shocked <em> charge </em> into you.</p>
<p>“Whoa, hey no, it’s alright.”</p>
<p>Whirl finally crashed back into reality to soft servos running all over his plating. He drew his field in tight, waiting for the touch to turn to pinches, scratches, tears into non-essential wires. The servos drew away.</p>
<p>“No touch, got it.”</p>
<p>Ratchet— Oh. Right. Whirl onlined his optic. He hadn’t realized it was offline. </p>
<p>Ratchet hovered over him, both servos held up where Whirl could see them. The toy was gone. Whirl blinked. Ratchet’s face looked horribly soft, all out of place for the Ratchet Whirl knew. He smiled a little, “You a war build?”</p>
<p>Whirl blinked again, glancing down at his cockpit. Ratchet managed a laugh, “Yeah, that’s probably on me. Should’ve realized. You good?”</p>
<p>“Yes?” Whirl hadn’t meant it to be a question, “Why aren’t you touching me?”</p>
<p>Ratchet frowned and Whirl sagged in relief. That, at least, brought some familiarity to the situation, “Your field was drawn in so tight it was practically internal.”</p>
<p>Whirl waved a claw at his concern, “Happens.”</p>
<p>Ratchet rolled his eyes. Good, excellent, this was familiar territory, “Maybe I like an enthusiastic partner. You always this flippant about PTSD?”</p>
<p>“Ah, ah, ah,” Whirl turned his optic up into a crescent, “No brain stuff on the first date.”</p>
<p>Ratchet snorted and the sound was enough to relax Whirl back into where he was. This was Ratchet. A kinky as all hell Ratchet, but he could work with this, “Can I ride you?”</p>
<p>Ratchet opticked him. Whirl fluffed his armor out, showing off his best wires. Ratchet’s gaze worked its way down, seemingly drawn to his legs once more, “Nah, I got a better idea.”</p>
<p>Ratchet settled between his legs. Whirl watched as best he could, but still jumped at the knock to his panel, “Gonna let me in?”</p>
<p>His panel slid back. Whirl stared up at the ceiling and didn’t vent, forgot that this wasn’t his Ratchet. This Ratchet would probably be weirded out by—</p>
<p>Digits skated over the spot where a spike housing should be, but he didn’t comment, dragging those digits down to rub lightly at Whirl’s mesh.</p>
<p>Whirl vented again, only to seize up once more when a digit pressed into his valve, “<em>Slag</em>.”</p>
<p>“Good slag?” Ratchet asked, and from the sound of his voice he knew it was. He was just being an aft. Whirl wanted to come back with some kind of witty rejoinder, something worthy of Cyclonus even, but Ratchet chose that moment to slip another digit in and they both groaned.</p>
<p>Medic’s hands, something spat out in Whirl’s processor.</p>
<p>Ratchet kept up with two digits for a while, pushing and twisting, rubbing across every node of Whirl’s that he could reach. Like some kind of magic there was answering charge in his servo, snapping back against Whirl and completing feedback loops that drove his charge up. Whirl twisted, arching his back to get Ratchet deeper.</p>
<p>“Another,” He whined. It’s been so long since someone touched him like this. Like they had no interest in just spiking him and leaving. Not that his Ratchet was like that. He’d just learned enough at this point to make sure he was in charge and got what he wanted.</p>
<p>Ratchet drew back and pressed in three digits, achingly slow. His servo was just as broad and strong as the rest of his frame, and Whirl melted into the stretch that was just starting to show. Three digits was more charge, more nodes snapping through their completion loops. Charge dripped from his array through the rest of his frame slowly.</p>
<p>“More,” Whirl wasn’t sure how this was happening but he was going to go for gold. Every glimpse of Ratchet’s face that he got was utterly entranced and seemed just as charged. </p>
<p>“Sure?” Ratchet ground out and <em> oh</em>— Whirl shivered in remembrance of the vocal frequency he always aimed for. Maybe he’d have that here too.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Whirl hissed, “Now, now—”</p>
<p>Ratchet spread his three digits and Whirl garbled and spit nothing but static. His mesh pulled and burned just a little bit, nothing like electricity, just a soft warmth after the initial drag. Ratchet groaned, “Frag, okay.”</p>
<p>A fourth digit brushed Whirl’s mesh, teasing his valve entrance. Whirl shuddered, plating flaring and slicking back down at random as his sensornet grappled with the exponential strength of his interface protocols. Whirl had them primed to go from zero to one hundred as quickly as possible, but even so, panic attack to fisting was probably asking a lot. </p>
<p>Ratchet nudged his fourth digit in and Whirl shrieked a string of binary. Through the haze in his optics he could see Ratchets plating flare, a heat haze in the atmosphere around him. His processor manages a small text string once more, <em> medic’s hands</em>. </p>
<p>Ratchet was still in school. He hadn't specialized yet. Diagnostic digits. </p>
<p>Whirl clamped down on said digits once the logic hit his ability to understand. Ratchet’s digits were probably more sensitive than his spike at this point and he had chosen to put them in <em> Whirl</em>, to use them to make <em> Whirl </em> feel good. It was enough to shake him through a minor overload that ramped his charge higher rather than dissipate it. </p>
<p>“Frag, you're gorgeous,” Ratchet said, almost like he hadn't meant to speak at all. Ridiculous. The Ratchet that Whirl knew had iron control over his entire frame, vocalizer included. Ratchet kept talking, “You’re taking it so well, slag. You think you could take my entire servo?”</p>
<p>Whirl nearly overloaded again at the thought alone. He sent a broad short range comm, too busy with the sheer onslaught of completion loops snapping over his nodes to locate his vocalizer commands, ‘<em>Yeah mech, give it to me.</em>’</p>
<p>Ratchet’s optics glowed and his thumb started pressing around Whirl’s valve entrance as he thrust with the four digits already in. Whirl offlined his optic housing, focusing on the utterly overwhelming input from his valve. Ratchet pushed at his next thrust in, but Whirl didn't give. </p>
<p>He whined, clenching rhythmically at Ratchet’s digits, trying to relax his valve enough. It felt impossible. Ratchet's other servo gripped behind his top knee, throwing Whirl’s leg over his shoulder. The angle change combined with the hot glossa in his joint shocked him enough into allow Ratchet’s knuckle joints and thumb to slip in. </p>
<p>Whether he was just as shocked or not, Ratchet’s knuckle joints scraped against his nodes as his servo twisted and his longest digits slammed into Whirl’s ceiling node. </p>
<p>Whirl screamed nothing but static as his valve contracted, every node running a completed feedback loop from his ceiling node downwards. Overload tore through his frame as his sensornet tried to battle the information from his valve nodes with the onslaught from his valve mesh, pleasure and discomfort radiating from his array. Ratchet’s denta sinking into a tensile cable in his knee joint only served to further the paradox sensations. </p>
<p>Whirl onlined his optic long enough to catch sight of answering charge arc through the gaps in Ratchet’s plating. </p>
<p>Yeah, he still had it. </p>
<p>Ratchet pulled out carefully while they were both still shivering, prompting another wave of charge through Whirl’s frame. He fell down half atop Whirl, face mashed somewhere in Whirl’s shoulder joint, “Primus.”</p>
<p>“Whirl, actually,” He managed to string together. Ratchet snickered into his shoulder. </p>
<p>“I never asked your name,” He managed between giggles, “Swear I’m more smooth than that usually.”</p>
<p>“I figured you were cratered,” Whirl blinked at the ceiling. It was so clean, “I mean, you took <em> me </em> home.”</p>
<p>“Shut up,” Ratchet swatted him, “You're the hottest thing I’ve seen in like three decades.”</p>
<p>“Get your optics checked,” Whirl snarked back. Ratchet pushed himself up on shaky arms, frowning down at Whirl. Whirl stared back, but rather than acquiesce any normal way Ratchet just ducked down and pressed a kiss to Whirl’s intake. </p>
<p>“Moron,” He muttered, licking over Whirl’s primary energon line, “I’ll get you energon in the morning. After I show you how wrong you are.”</p>
<p>“Sure,” Whirl said, vowing to be long gone before then. He offlined his optic and surrendered to his recharge cycle. </p>
<p>- - -</p>
<p>Whirl woke up again in the medbay of the Lost Light. </p>
<p>He blinked at the familiar scorch marks on the ceiling. It was even <em> his </em> medberth. He turned his optic housing and caught Ratchet’s unimpressed face, “You absolute fragger.”</p>
<p>Ratchet rolled his optics, “Nice to see you again.”</p>
<p>“You've been holding out on me!” Whirl jabbed a claw against his chassis, “You’re a kinky slagger! And you've been letting me just frag you all regular!”</p>
<p>Ratchet rolled his optics again, “Because it went so well that first time.”</p>
<p>“Shut up,” Whirl hooked a claw under his pelvic armor. Ratchet gave him a flat stare that he ignored, “I can't believe you.”</p>
<p>“I can't believe you were willing to let an absolutely cratered infant top you with no negotiation,” Ratchet unhooked his claw and turned away. </p>
<p>Whirl waited until the privacy shielding was dropped for Ratchet to walk out and yelled as loud as he was able, “You better fist me again!!”</p>
<p>Ratchet didn't look bothered or back, just raised his servo, the one that had been inside Whirl a millennia and only some groon ago, to flip him off.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i'm taking summer heat prompts on twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/robopunkcfb">@robopunkcfb</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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